Warmth

I lied yesterday when I said that I had enough oil in the tank.  I don't.  I'm down to 1/8 tank and there's a problem.  Twice the oil delivery truck has tried to back up my snow-covered driveway and failed.  I am trying to solve this problem with the help of the township road department, my neighbor and his ATV, and some mojo which involves watching youtube videos of whirling dervishes and banging my head on the desk.  My house is still warm for now, and I am in love with that heat.

One of my daughters is living in a condo that I own in south Florida.  Another daughter is living in the rainforest in Queensland AU where it is summer.  Last night I chatted at length with a friend who is a musician on a cruise ship in the Caribbean and then this morning with a friend who recently moved to Guatemala.  All of that warmth while I am facing a possible freeze-out here in northwest New Jersey.  (Yes, I do have a son who lives in Vermont, but he likes to ski, so no sympathy.)  And right about now, you are thinking, "She owns a condo in south Florida and she's still wintering in New Jersey?"  Yes, that's true.  I purchased the condo as an investment and as a way to help my daughter live affordably while she is in grad school.  Although I thought it might be nice to visit occasionally, never did I envision myself as a snowbird.

Guess what?  I think I can see that now.  No surprise, right?  After a winter like this one, I'm sure a lot of people are dreaming of warmer climates.

If you grow up in the Northeast, you develop a love of seasons that are discernible from one another.  Not only do you appreciate the changing landscape and the beauty that is inherent to each quarter of the year, but you also measure out your life in relation to seasonal changes.  "In the summer, I will be sure to get the house painted."  "Next autumn, I am hoping to clean out my closets."  "I'm going to get an earlier start on the garden next spring."  "Next winter . . . "

I am moving to Florida.

Meanwhile, here I am, basking in the warmth of the little oil that is left in my tank, dreaming of palm trees and ocean breezes.  There is a Nor'easter brewing with an estimated arrival of midnight tomorrow.  That gives me one more day to get that oil delivery.  Third time's the charm, right?

If you don't see another post here by tomorrow night, don't be alarmed.  I'll just be in bed, buried under every comforter I own.  Or I'll be frozen solid.  Or MAYBE . . . if all of you bang your heads on your desks while watching videos of whirling dervishes, we can conjure enough mojo to get that truck up the driveway.  Think warm thoughts, people.